Flan's Great Russian Adventure!
by kiniro no hana
Summary: Flan and Bel go on a hit in the ritzy parts of Moscow. The mission quickly goes to Hell. In more than one sense of the phrase.


Moscow was miserable this time of year. So was Flan. Why? Because he'd just been dragged across Europe, had jetlag, and was forced to carry over-eager senpai's unconscious body all the way back to the Varia's hidden base in the industrial district. Their targets had been good, but either very stupid or heinously unlucky, because they'd drawn Bel's "royal" blood and he'd gone on a rampage. And if having to wait around while Bel ripped them to pieces wasn't bad enough, the two boss' underlings decided to make an appearance. Though it was cut short by senpai's silver knives, it did complicate things. Just for your information, the targets had been in a ritzy apartment off Tverskaya Street. The industrial district was very, very VERY far from Tverskaya St. And of course the apartment had to explode, cave in and knock out stupid senpai with falling rubble because he simply couldn't control his psychotic bloodlust. Of course. And obviously the piss-ant police just _had _to do their merry-fucking job and respond immediately. Damn why weren't the Russian police full of slow fat-asses like in South Italy? So here Flan was, carrying his senpai on his back in the rain as he roof-hopped his way to the base. In the rain, in December, in God-forsaken shitting Moscow. He'd covered them both in illusions so the police helicopters and surveillance wouldn't catch them on tape, but using them took effort and senpai was heavy. His back was gonna bitch at him later for this. And he would in turn bitch at senpai later for this.

As Flan ran past, a figure slowly detached itself from the shadows of the rooftops and began to follow them. Thinking he heard something, Flan looked back but all he saw was the tall skyscrapers and flickering lights of the city. He stopped and looked carefully, but there was nothing to see. He shrugged visibly, and continued running. Once again, a shadow detached itself from the inky dark and began following the two assassins on their way across the city. Flan jumped down in from of an abandoned warehouse, the condemnation sign long-rusted and unreadable. The huge doors hung ajar, one barely hanging onto its single hinge. Graffiti traced along the contours of the building, spelling out things Flan could neither understand nor care about. He entered and set Bel down on top of a crate, none too gently either, as his impact created an echoing –thunk!- that ricocheted around in the black, empty air. Flan jumped up next to him and wrapped an illusion around them like a blanket. A black shape soon scuttled through the door as well, barely disturbing the air as it glided along. It stood up to its full height, about as tall as Xanxus, Flan guessed, and slowly stepped forward deeper into the dark warehouse.

"Hello. Are you looking for us?" Flan said as he and Bel crouched on top of a stack of large crates. Lights illuminated the space, bright, blinding and harsh fluorescents. The person startled and looked up to them in amazement. He had been so sure Prince the Ripper was incapacitated, how could this be? And these lights! This warehouse is supposed to be condemned!

"Ushishishishi! Come and play with me, little assassin! The Prince is getting thirsty~! For your blood~! Shishi!" Bel jumped down off the crates and threw a long line of knives at the assassin. He dodged them all, ducking and swerving around the razor sharp edges. Three knives in Bel's hand shredded the man's chest. He felt himself bleeding out, but drew his kris anyway. In a dying lunge, he slashed at Bel, and connected with the man's chest, crushing bone and shredding…nothing? The image of Bel laughed once more, before floating away like smoke. The assassin looked at his chest, the gashes! They're gone! So that's how it is, eh? Illusions…

"So, have you figured it out yet, bumbling leotard man?" Flan asked, from atop the stack of crates. The assassin felt a vein pop out on his forehead. Annoying little shit…

"Hell yea I have, you little Varia shit! You two bastards killed my bosses! And then you abandoned Prince the Ripper on the scene like the gutless scum you are! Quit fucking with my mind and fight me for real, you pussy! Or is the baby too scared of my sword, huh? Come out, you little rat!"

"I highly doubt that. After all, you're just an overly emotional idiot focused on revenge. You're completely out of your element." Flan drawled from behind the man, hands in his pockets. The assassin twisted violently, looking at the new incarnation of the boy. He glanced back a the crates, he was still there? Another illusion?

"The one out of their element is you, Varia trash! Even as we speak, an entire battalion of soldiers are headed for this very location! In two minutes, you'll be caught and slaughtered! Bahahaha! How do like that, you"-sfx: slashing, squelching- Blood splattered all around him as something stabbed him in the stomach and ripped through bone and cartilage to exit through his left shoulder, cutting his heart in half. Flan watched from his hidden position next to Bel as a real illusion of Bel cut through the annoying leotard idiot before he could finish his pathetic speech. He was dead before his body hit the frozen ground. Flan sighed and picked up his cell phone. This battalion thing sounded like something for the underlings. He wasn't into getting covered in blood and guts like Bel. Speaking of Bel…

"Oi, fake prince Bel! Wake up! Bel-senpai~ Wake up! Bel!" He shook Bel's unconscious body. Ok, he's not awakening. Time to have some fun. He began to gently take off Bel's annoying fake-silver crown when he heard a strange sound. It sounded like…flames? Lots and lot of- OH! Ohhhh, right! They were about to be attacked by a battalion of enemy men, weren't they? Flan smacked a closed fist against his flat palm. He closed his phone, at this point underlings would just be a hindrance. He put on his Hell Ring and covered the entire warehouse in illusions. The battalion busted the doors down, and being idiots, they didn't realize they were in an illusion until he'd already massacred half of them. Hmm. He was starting to get into this whole mass-murder thing. Must be the Hell Ring, he decided. Soon only the smart ones were left, and he quickly killed them off with real illusions. The entire warehouse was filled with blood and corpses. Soon, his illusions made it back into a dark, empty warehouse on the outskirts of Moscow. Bel began to stir just as the last man fell. Flan quickly put the crown-coughman-tiaracough- back on Bel's messy hair, and strengthened the illusions covering the murder scene. Don't want Bel going wacko again. That would be annoying.

"Froggy? Where the fuck are we?" Bel groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head with a pained expression. Well damn, he didn't get to dye senpai's hair blue in time after all. How sad.

"In a warehouse, senpai. You passed out during the hit, or did that rock jostle something in your delicate brain?" Three knives, as expected, in his hat. Hopefully it'll disintegrate soon.

"I remember that, you frog! I'm asking why the hell is the Prince in a warehouse and not the hideout?" Bel growled as he jumped off the crate and stretched. Thankfully, he didn't realize he was standing on a corpse's chest. Flan decided that maybe if he acted like nothing happened, he could get back home before he got filleted for letting the fake-Prince miss out on a good rampage.

"Tch. Because you're really heavy and I needed a break from lugging you clear across the city. Ah, I bit my tongue." Flan quipped as he walked toward the open doors. Soon, he heard Bel following him. They walked out and into the now-clear air, the rain was stopped and stars spread out above them, raped of their brilliance by layers of smog and fumes. They began walking to the hidden entrance of the Varia hideout, which was only two warehouses down. They arrived at the broken down, rusted out shell of a car, Bel kicked it in the right spot, and a keypad flipped out. He typed in the code, did various other verification tests that Flan also participated in, and then they were inside. Bel flopped down on the couch, but Flan went out of the main living room into the kitchen. Time to report to the girly commander.

"Strategy Capitan Squalo, this is Flan. Mission's done, minor injuries on Bel, none for me because I'm more awesome than him. We were ambushed by some goons, but my heroic posing quickly defeated them! And on that note, I need a cleaner squad sent to the warehouse two buildings over to pick up the mess I made. Thanks noisy Capitan! Have fun getting it from Boss!" Flan said all that in the span of six seconds, didn't give Squalo time to respond, and immediately hung up. His head hurt from using the Hell Ring. He really didn't need Squalo screaming into his ears right now. His phone rang, he put it back into his pocket. Ignoring the Capitan would get him chewed out later, but then again, he didn't really care. It was high time he made himself a hot cup of cocoa, put on his pj's and went to sleep. So he did just that.

-X-

Turns out, when Bel found out about his rampage, he actually praised Flan for finally getting some bloodlust, before stabbing him and locking him in the kitchen with Lussuria for not sharing it with him. Squalo screamed at him through the door, but the second Lussuria poked his head out the door, Squalo ran screaming for the hills, to protect his hair. Levi looked on in scorn from his spot on the floor, replacing the foot rest Xanxus had destroyed last Tuesday. Xanxus sipped his wine and just looked badass, and then proceeded to kick Levi out a window and throw the closest things he could get his hands on at the first living creature that passed his door. Flan got to keep the cookies he made with Lussuria. He ate them, and was glad.


End file.
